Dean Winchester ⇝ Supernatural

Finding you self harm

by Supernatural Jackles on tumblr

Dean x Reader

Warnings: Talk about self-harm

Word Count: 1354

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"Come on, Dean! You always pick what we watch," you complained. Dean suggested another Western movie.

"You know you love it," he winks at you.

"Yeah, not every time we watch a movie though. Why can't I pick this time?" you questioned, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

"Not going to work on me, sweetheart," he smiled. His smile made your heart race, not to mention the nickname that he always called you. You've always had a thing for him, ever since you met him. At first you thought he was attractive, really, who wouldn't. His strong arms, his pudgy stomach, not to mention those mesmerizing green eyes. Every time he even brushed over your skin, you felt yourself melt. After time, you fell in love with him, how could you not? He was selfless, and always protected those around him. But Dean often showed his softer side when he was with you. You could talk to him about anything and he would listen. He was gentle and kind, which was odd for the best hunter out there. He made you feel safe; he made you feel like family.

"Dean," you whined. "I want to watch Harry Potter. I will literally fight you for it."

"Oh really? I'm pretty sure I can kick your ass," he smirked.

He launched himself at you, his hands gripping your waists as his fingers began to dig into your skin, he began to tickle you, knowing that was your weakness. You abruptly burst out in laughter, your legs trying to kick him off of you but no avail, he was a lot stronger than you. He was smiling widely as you laughed, your body flinching under his touch.

"Dean stop!" you giggled. "Dean!"

"Did you say keep going?" he chuckled, his hands roamed to your stomach, testing to see if you were ticklish there as well, which you were. You threw your head back as he continued to tickle you. All of a sudden he stopped completely and backed off of you. You looked up at him in confusion until you realized that your sleeves had rolled up, revealing your secret; your self harm scars.

You quickly covered them, avoiding Dean's gaze as you got up off of the couch. You were about to run out of the room when he stood up and grabbed you by your bicep. Tears were in your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks. You were beyond terrified that he was going to yell at you, even more afraid that he wouldn't want to be your friend anymore. Why would he after this? It's the whole reason why you didn't tell him in the first place. You acted as though everything was okay around him even though you were very depressed. Everyone that did know had walked out of your life, claiming it was too much for them to handle and it wasn't their job to help you. You didn't want to burden either Winchester; you didn't want them to walk out too.

"Y/N," he said softly. His voice causing you to break down, your knees gave out, and you crashed to the floor. His arms were instantly around you, pulling you tightly to his body. You buried your head in his chest, sobs wracked your body as you clung tightly to his shirt. He ran his fingers through your hair, "Shh it's okay, sweetheart. Let it out. I've got you."

You had finally calmed yourself down, your breathing was back to normal. You didn't dare look up at him, not yet. You relished in the comfort and safety of his arms. It smelt distinctly like him; his cologne mixed with whiskey, sweat and gun powder, a smell you loved. You looked at his shirt, which now had stains from your tears.

"Sorry about your shirt," you muttered.

"Don't even worry about it," he assured you. He let go of you and got up, then lifted you into his arms and moved you to the couch. He sat you on his lap comfortably before placing a kiss to your temple. His fingers gently rolled up your sleeves, revealing your cuts. Some were fresh, others were healed and fading. He gingerly traced over them with his thumb, his eyes trailed over them. "Can you talk to me about this?"

You took a deep breath, "I started when I was fifteen. I had a lot of issues with my family, not to mention with myself. I've never been the most confident, I've always had problems with the way I looked, I hate what I see every time I look in the mirror, and my parents made it worse. I was never good enough for them. I didn't get good grades, I didn't get asked out by anyone because I wasn't pretty enough. After awhile it just got to me. I began to hurt myself to feel better, it was the only thing in my life that I had control of."

"I knew about your depression, I had no clue it was this bad. You could have come to me with this you know," he told you.

"You knew?"

"I found your medication a few months back," he confessed, "I didn't ask because I didn't want to freak you out. I figured if you would have wanted to talk about it you would have. I was a little surprised at first. You always seemed to be so happy. But the more I watched you after that, the more I saw it was an act."

"I'm sorry, Dean," you said as tears began to well in your eyes.

"You don't have to be sorry, sweetheart. It's not your fault. I'm not happy about the cutting, and I'm not happy that you kept it from me but now that I know, I want to help you. It hurts me to think that you've been doing this to yourself, that you've been dealing with this on your own."

"You don't have to, I don't want to be a burden. I love you too much to burden you with my problem when you already have the world on your shoulders," you blurted out. You soon realized that you just confessed that you loved him. Your cheeks flushed bright pink.

"And I love you too much to let you go through this alone. It's not going to happen. I don't want you to feel like you need to cut yourself to make yourself feel better. I don't want you to think that you're a burden to me cause you aint, not even close."

"Are you sure? Everyone else has walked out of my life after they said that," you sniffled.

"Baby, you're stuck with me. Let me help you," he smiled. Your eyes met his, you could see that he was trying to blink away tears. You nodded your head. "You have to promise me that you won't cut yourself again. Promise me that you'll talk to me instead."

"I promise," you smiled softly.

"Good! Now how about cuddle up here and watch some Harry Potter? That sound good?"

"Sounds perfect."

He quickly put Harry Potter in the DVD player and climbed back on the couch with you. He pulled you tightly to him and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, making you smile. "I want you to know that I think you are beautiful, and you're definitely as smart as Sam. And those high school boys weren't good enough for you. If I would have known you back then, I definitely would have asked you out. Sorry I'm a little late, but what do you say to dinner next Friday night?"

"I say yes. Thank you Dean.

"Anything for the girl I love."

"I love you too," you smiled. He leaned down and brushed his lips over yours, you could feel him smiling into the kiss. His lips tasted of mint and whiskey, a taste you couldn't wait to get used to. "You don't mind the scars?"

"I don't mind them at all. They're your battle scars, everyone's got them. I'm just going to help yours heal."